


The spark

by kitkattaylor



Category: Phan, Phandom, dan and phil
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkattaylor/pseuds/kitkattaylor
Summary: what is this spark everyone speaks of





	The spark

He’d asked him this the other day. If he missed the kissing, the sex.

It’s something about turning thirty, because his friend had asked him too. Except there’s no difference in the way he and James had been lying top-to-tail on his bed, talking to the ceiling, as they had aged eleven, discussing how you were supposed to kiss a girl, what a boob felt like. And then age eighteen, spilling all their thoughts into the whirring ceiling fan; ‘ _this isn’t what I expected, but this is what feels good to me.’_

Back then it was a topic of sex, of lust. And ‘love’ got put with it, like a pin the tail on the donkey.  _Mmm…It’s probably here, probably this._  This was back before Dan. And before Phil’s friends started getting married, having kids. Now the topic is one of ‘love’, of ‘serious relationships’, and of ‘the spark.’

Because it seems inevitably, ‘the spark’ goes missing. It’s the adult themes they knew all about – the work-life balance; the baby crying; the love affair… ‘Didn’t we all used to kiss so much?’ James had said into the hum of the fan. Phil was playing with a plastic finger trap he’d found at the back of his draw. He panicked when it tightened, forgetting that all he had to do was relax. ‘And, like, sex. Every day, twice a day. Is that right? I forget to kiss her goodnight, sometimes. Or that kiss before work, where did that go?’

[…the divorce.] Dan had been joking, when he’d rolled his eyes – ‘we’re getting old’ – half smile lit by the phone screen in his hands. Phil smiled too, in an absent way, and rolled onto his side, head curled in Dan’s direction, his eyes shielded from the bedside light that made the sheets between them (the duvet was down by their thighs, it was hot) appear vast and shadowed like the surface of the moon. Conversation over. There was quiet, the muted tap tap of Dan’s fingers as he typed, paused, typed, and then he locked his phone and the pillow hushed like the swell on a shoreline as he turned and looked to the side. ‘Do you miss it, ever?’ The quiet jutted into a silence and Phil opened his eyes, squinting out across the sheets. Like thunder, the question seemed to sound in Phil’s head a heartbeat later. Now Phil could hear the underlying fear in Dan’s voice. ‘Like you don’t  _want_ …or do you…’ A heartbeat too late. Reaching up for Dan’s wrist, Phil bought his arm down to his level and kissed the back of his hand, their grip relaxed. Dan’s hand lingered beside Phil’s forehead, and Phil could hear him thinking. Justifying…consoling. But Dan was always thinking, and this was the one thing Dan never, ever worried about.

“Wait-”

Was he really worried about them?

“Okay,” Dan smiled, patting Phil’s chest as he pulled back from the kiss. A peck, the  _kiss before work_ kind. His eyes flickered almost nervously in front of Phil, his softest shade of brown, with the morning light dewy on his skin. Outside, flowers were tentatively stretching into the sun, and here Dan lifted onto his toes, pressing his palms into the sides of his thighs.

Phil stepped away, a little awkward, because this was strange, and gave a last smile and nod as he left through the door. Dan’s tip-toed, thumb-twiddling, wide-eyed image stayed with him all through the day. And when he got home – head to the pillow, blinking up at Dan lit up like Neptune as he had been the other day, as he was every night – Phil realised what he’d been reminded of.

2009\. Dan in his hallway, too tall for the ceiling, arms too long to hang awkwardly like that. Fixing his fringe in the mirror when Phil kicked off his shoes.  _It wasn’t what he’d expected_ , Phil thought, thinking of the sultry-eyed photos in black and white and those flirty comments, so quickly typed, so quickly sent… He made them tea, spoon piercingly loud against the sides of the mug. He wanted to laugh. ‘What now?’ Dan asked, though he didn’t say it like that. It was ‘Do you want to watch a film?’ ‘Shall we order take-out?’ ‘Should we go for like, a walk?’ They went for a walk and Phil talked and Dan mumbled and Phil realised he’d stopped being afraid. He could look down at their feet and see what the ground beneath them had felt like before; like it would split, crumble and trip them from the tension, and they were pretending it wouldn’t. But then he decided to kiss Dan, and he turned and saw  _Dan_ , standing expectant, and he was so perfect right then, so perfect and  _impatient_ , that it was Dan who kissed Phil.

It was still like that.

“Dan,” – same eyes, same expression – “Goodnight kiss?” Dan went to laugh but his smile got caught on some thought and then he nearly frowned. Shuffling down the bed, muttering an amused ‘ _fine_ ’ that was really just a cover, he presented his lips and raised his eyebrows. Phil had to swallow down against his heart that was suddenly in his throat, skittering its pulse through his arms. Here he was again, just like the first time. Hopping once closer – Dan frowning at Phil for being weird, except his eyes turned warmer – he tilted his head and kissed him. He held it. He pressed closer, then moved his hand to hold Dan’s head, now shaking with gentle laughter. “Phil-“ Dan whined. “Mm,” Phil hummed, not letting Dan go, but Dan’s shoulders had loosened. Phil reached for Dan’s phone and placed it on the bedside table behind him – because they had bedside tables now, beside their bed – and Dan’s head nudged without encouragement at Phil. More.

The night they first had sex, they’d been sat kissing until they didn’t know what time it was. The TV muted, the light dimming… Phil pulled back and Dan’s open lips breathed out hot air. Phil could feel Dan’s weight on his arm now, where they lay propped up against the headboard. He was so pretty. Now Phil was nervous again. Slowly sitting up without removing his stare –  _is this sexy?_ – Dan slid back on his heels and lifted his shirt. Phil’s chest was rising with each breath. So pretty, he thought, the words crowding his head. Dan’s eyes blinked a little too fast and he moved a little too slow to be confident onto Phil’s lap. Pause.  _He could feel it_. A rush of thrill, a rush of blood. He picked up Phil’s arms, unnaturally pinned to the mattress, and placed them on his hipbones.  _Touch me, you doofus._ He pressed down, just slightly, and Phil’s eyes widened. Focused. He hooked a finger into the waistband of Dan’s trousers and tugged. Dan’s pulse hitched. Phil kissed him – like he knew exactly what to do, like he wasn’t just accidentally hot – and placed him back down on the bed, beneath his shadow, his warmth. They kissed and Dan moaned and pushed fingers beneath Phil’s top and when Dan lifted his hips, saying  _now_ , Phil reached into the dark and then there tumbled  _things_ , lots of  _things_ , onto the floor. “I don’t remember where I put them-“ Phil whispered, laughed. The heated silence fell with the miscellaneous items to the ground. Dan snorted, stretched like a starfish, and smiled to himself, heart full and steady. “Oh, here…” Clatter, fumble, creak of bed springs. Dan blew out where his long, straightened fringe flopped into his eyes. Phil froze at Dan’s smile, condoms and lube clutched squirrel-like in his hands. “Did I ruin the moment?”

Dan’s nose brushed Phil’s cheek, eyelashes flattened towards where their hands were linked, just loosely, beneath the bed covers. It was quiet. The air would be soft to touch, like mist. Phil flicked his eyes up to Dan’s curls, to his lips, shaped with kisses. His skin was a little rougher than 2009. Guiding his attention back to him, Phil went in with another kiss, immediately deep. He could hear the little sticky sounds their lips made and it was simple. There was a weight to it, to the muted thuds against his chest. That unspoken, or not often spoken, feeling. But it was still the same kind of kiss they shared between video games, mid conversation. The kisses that didn’t interrupt but punctuated, as in that week together, all those years ago, with the icy windows, and the bedsheets never cold, never without creases… Phil’s flat like a campsite, far away from the rest of the world, from their rules and their expectations. His mum told him once that as you got older relationships turned into friendships, if you were lucky. But it was always like that with Dan. There was no drama to it. He knew it then and he knew it now, that this was his kind of love.

“Is it bad I don’t miss having so much sex?”

Dan pecked his lips after Phil spoke, then seemed to hear the question. Phil watched as the idea passed through Dan’s eyes, like a skimmed stone, bouncing once, twice before landing. Immediately, he let out a long, heavy sigh. It was like he’d held his breath for days.

“I mean, not like  _no_  sex, but you know…”

Dan’s relief halted as a silly smirk slid onto his face. “Uh huh…” (Phil stole a quick, random kiss here, they were still close enough.) Dan sighed again, back to relief, and nestled his head on the pillow. “Mm sorry did I freak you out? I just didn’t want you not to be saying anything and being all unsatisfied, like we can make more time and effort… But I don’t know if I was  _really_ worried that we, you know, wouldn’t be okay. It’s just irrational fears. Sex declines and you go off and find a younger guy and I die a sad, old, spinster…“ Dan exaggerated these words, eyes full of the idea of gloom. “Or we just, become unhappy…” Lifting one hand, still attached to Phil’s, he scratched his nose and continued speaking. “And I guess I worried I wasn’t sexy enough anymore, or something…”

Phil stared as Dan wriggled his nose and lowered their hands. Then he closed his eyes, as if suddenly exhausted.

“You’re still sexy, Dan,” Phil soothed, his tone a little too pouty to be convincing.

“Thanks,” Dan smiled, melting into the pillow.

With their hands still linked, Phil smoothed his thumb across Dan’s skin, a gentle to and fro as he thought. First he thought about how Dan had said ‘spinster’ – an old, unmarried, woman – instead of bachelor. Then he thought about being with someone else. It was like brain freeze. Snuggling down, Phil poked Dan’s waist, waiting as he smiled knowingly and rolled over, little spoon tonight.

“I think,” Phil started, resting his chin on Dan’s shoulder, “that everyone is still figuring it out.”

Dan mhm’d.

“But… I’m happy? It’s enough for me.”

They lay still, and Phil felt as Dan’s breathing slowed. He only had to shift once, just slightly, into a more comfortable position. They weren’t sleeping yet, simply resting, when a sharp ding sounded behind them – another, then another – and Dan twisted his head around.

“Was my phone not on silent all this time?” Phil shrugged and Dan frowned. “Did I really not hear it?”

After sitting up to check it, set an alarm, and put it on Do Not Disturb, Dan wiggled back into the space he’d left warm. Phil’s body glowed with happiness, just at having Dan – his Dan – falling asleep against him. His relationship; his home.

Is that ‘the spark’? He thought, distantly, settling inside the feeling, drawing it up to his chin. And, even if it wasn’t, did he care?  


End file.
